


Tale of a Sleeping Prince

by astudyinrose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Episode 10, Post-Grand Prix Final, drunk!Yuuri, pining!victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/pseuds/astudyinrose
Summary: Victor meets Yuuri at the Grand Prix Banquet in Sochi, and falls head over heels for him. Of course, only one of them remembers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to rcmchlachlan and longhornletters for the beta. You are both beautiful land mermaids.

 

Victor Nikiforov was a five-time Grand Prix Final winner, a four-time world champion, and an Olympic gold medalist. He was one of the most decorated male figure skaters in history. According to some, he was a “living legend.”

And he was absolutely fucking miserable. 

Victor stood in front of his hotel closet, sighing, trying to decide what to wear to the Grand Prix Final banquet. Despite the persona he projected to the world, he hated these kinds of functions. He knew that most skaters would kill to be in his shoes, literally and figuratively (it probably wasn’t every day that a skater had sponsors like Hugo Boss and Versace), but he’d rather be in his sweatpants at home with Makkachin. After so many long years, none of it held any glamour for him anymore: the galas and the champagne, the empty chatter. He smiled for the press and the fans because it was expected of him, but he always felt removed from it all, and he felt...unfulfilled.

Even the love of his life, skating, was starting to feel routine. He felt like he had accomplished everything he wanted to accomplish several times over, and he had no idea where to go from here. He could no longer surprise the audience, or himself, no matter how hard he tried. 

Victor pulled on a slate grey three piece suit, which the sponsor had wanted him to wear to at least one publicized event that season. As he was knotting the purple tie that completed the ensemble, his phone buzzed with a text. He picked it up, grabbing his cufflinks at the same time.

_Are you coming to get me or what, old man?_

Victor smiled, typing out a quick response. _Ready in five._

Yuri had never been to one of these banquets before, and through his normal cascade of insults, Victor could tell that he was afraid to go alone. After several years of training with Yakov, Victor always tried to help him as much as he could with his skating and with navigating the world, since his personality wasn’t really one that meshed with most people.  

Victor finished his cufflinks and grabbed his wallet and phone, and walked out the door.

“Took you long enough.” 

Yuri was leaning against the hall wall, arms crossed, wearing the brand new suit Victor had helped pick out for the occasion. Yuri had fought him on it, trying to convince Victor that he should be able to wear his leopard print jacket to the event. Victor had made him a bet: if he could land a triple axel-triple loop combo in practice, he could wear whatever he wanted. Obviously, Yuri had lost. 

“Yuuuuuuuuri, you look so handsome!” Victor crooned, pinching Yuri’s cheek. “Your hair could use a trim, though.” 

Yuri swatted his hand away, his nose scrunching the way it did when he was angry. “You’re one to talk. You had hair down to your ass when you were my age!” 

“I did, that’s true,” Victor mused, pushing back his bangs, remembering what it was like to have his hair that long. He missed it, sometimes. When he cut it off seven years ago, there had been a large outcry on the internet, including people posting pictures of themselves crying in grief. He knew he had what could be called a “cult following,” but still, he’d thought that was a bit much.

“Yakov said he’d meet us there, so let’s go.” Yuri didn’t even wait for a response, turning on his heel and walking straight down the hall toward the elevators. 

Victor sighed, following him. “How am I supposed to groom you into the next charming Russian figure skating star if you keep acting like such a brat?” 

“Stop talking, old man,” Yuri spat as he stabbed the elevator button.

 

 

* * *

When they arrived at the banquet, it was already in full swing. As soon as Victor entered the room, people started swarming around him to shake his hand, or to ask for an autograph or a selfie. Victor put on his thousand-megawatt smile, charming everyone the way he had learned to do over many years of being in the public eye. Yuri stood nearby, scowling, but soon he was engaged in conversations with other skaters himself. He was the Grand Prix Junior champion and he would be making his senior debut soon, and the pundits considered him to be a rising star. When he got too snippy, Victor would give him a glare, and Yuri would unclench a little. Not a lot, but enough not to be rude.

Eventually, Victor gave Yakov a meaningful look, and his coach nodded, taking over the conversation with a sponsor. Victor sighed, relieved, and excused himself to go over to the drinks table. 

“Champagne, please. Brut. Make it a big one.” 

“So, Victor Nikiforov, how does it feel to be the darling of the skating world?” a familiar voice said in a mock-journalistic tone. 

 _Lonely_ , Victor thought, accepting his glass of champagne. He turned around to see Chris grinning at him, face slightly flushed and eyes a little glassy. Victor guessed the gin and tonic in his hand wasn’t his first of the night.

“How does it feel to always be standing on the outside, receiving silver or bronze, while I’m in the middle with gold?” Victor deadpanned, taking a sip from his glass.

Chris clutched at his heart dramatically, taking a step backward. “Vitya, you wound me. Next year I’ll be in the middle and you’ll be knocked from number one, you’ll see.”

 _If I’m even around to compete against next year_ , Victor thought. 

“Challenge accepted,” he said aloud, clinking their glasses together and flashing a wide smile.

Chris narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re lying. I’m not sure what about, but you are. You don’t think I can beat you, do you?” 

Victor drained his glass, holding it out to the bartender for a refill. “What was my tell?”

“Your smile. You only use that one when you’re trying to hide something. Or for fans.” 

“I didn’t know it was that obvious.” 

“Only to people who know you.” Chris winked. 

Victor didn’t reply, taking another long drink and scanning the room. During their many years on the circuit, Chris had come to know Victor better than most people. In fact, he was one of the few people Victor actually would call a friend, and had been more than that once or twice. But the truth was, hardly anyone truly knew him—the real him, anyway—at all, including Chris. In his younger years, Victor had preferred it that way. He had loved being adored from afar, because it gave him the money to keep competing and devote himself to skating without any real emotional entanglements.  

As Victor was having his glass refilled again, a familiar-looking, cute young man with a mop of black hair walked into the room alongside an older man with a long brown ponytail. The older man was talking to the young man in hushed tones, hand on his lower back. The young man had his shoulders hunched, but he was nodding minutely.

Chris was still chatting at him, but Victor wasn’t listening. He was trying to figure out where he had seen the young man before, and why he looked vaguely familiar. 

The man with the long ponytail slapped the young man once more on his shoulder and then someone else caught his attention. He immediately kissed their cheeks and started chatting with them animatedly. The young man, looking unmoored, glanced around for a bit before making a beeline for the drinks table. 

“...but I think I might try and bring the quad sal into my program next year...Victor, are you even listening to me?” Chris nudged his shoulder.

“No,” Victor said, still watching the young man. He was adorable, in a lost-puppy kind of way. 

“Ah, staring at the fresh meat, eh?” Chris teased, following his line of sight. 

“Who is he?” Victor murmured, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “I’ve seen him somewhere.” 

“He’s the Japanese skater. The one who got sixth. Yuuri…something.”

“He competed in the Final?” Victor looked at the young man—Yuuri—who had just downed two glasses of champagne and was starting on a third.

“Yeah. You really are so self-involved that you don’t even watch your competition anymore?” Chris’s eyes flashed with mirth.

“I was in a back room, warming up,” Victor said, feeling a little peeved. “It’s not as though I purposefully ignored the other skaters.”

“Well, he completely flopped. His spins and footwork are really very good, but he fell during three jumps.” 

“Hmm,” Victor hummed, continuing to watch Yuuri, who had a mounting number of glasses in front of him. He was contemplating whether to go over and introduce himself when Yakov appeared at his side. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Yakov said. “Can I introduce Giovanni Abellini, Director of Marketing for Dolce and Gabbana? He’s interested in talking to you about a sponsorship.” 

Victor tore his eyes away from Yuuri and shook the hand of the newcomer. “Nice to meet you.”

Chris gave him a knowing look before sauntering off toward another group of skaters.

Victor made conversation with the new sponsor, smiling at the right times and making witty remarks. At the same time, he watched Yuuri drink an obscene amount of champagne out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, eventually the sponsor moved on. 

“What do you think?” Yakov asked in Russian once Giovanni was gone.

“I think I already have too many sponsorships and money and I have no idea what to do with it all,” Victor said.

Yakov side-eyed him. “That’s not the Victor Nikiforov I know. What’s wrong with you?” 

Victor sighed. “I’m getting another drink.” He walked toward the drinks table, and Yakov didn’t try to follow him. 

He was almost there when suddenly Yuuri Katsuki was directly in front of him, looking him up and down exaggeratedly.

“Victor Nikiforov.” Yuuri’s words were slurred, but Victor could hear an endearing (though faint) accent.

“That’s me,” Victor said, unable to think of anything else to say. “And you’re Yuuri.”

Yuuri squinted at him, as if he was trying to figure something out. “You don’t know my name.” 

Victor frowned. “That’s not your name?”

Yuuri shook his head, taking another swig. “No, no. I mean yes, I’m Yuuri. You already know a Yuri though. Another Yuri. Isn’t that funny?”

“A bit,” Victor said, taking another glass of champagne from the table.

“He was mean to me before.” Yuuri’s lips turned downward in a comically exaggerated pout.

“Was he?" 

“Yes. That wasn’t the point though.” Yuuri pressed his palm to his forehead. “I can’t remember the point.”

“You think I don’t know your name?” Victor supplied, his mouth twitching slightly. 

“Right. You didn’t even know I was a skater yesterday. You thought I was a fan.” 

Understanding bloomed in Victor’s chest. That was where he had seen him before. The day before, he caught a man staring at him in the awestruck way a fan usually did when they wanted an autograph. Victor had smiled his “I’m approachable” smile and offered to pose for a photo, but the fan had turned and walked away quickly without a word. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

Yuuri shook his head again, hiccuping a bit. “S’all right, s’all right. I _am_ a fan of yours. I’m probably your biggest fan.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Victor said dryly, taking another sip from his glass. 

“Noooo. For real. I have like…” Yuuri looked down at his hands, as if he was trying to count something. “Ugh. I can’t do math right now.”

Victor lost control, giggling a bit. Yuuri was just... _adorable_.

 Yuuri squinted at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course not.”

Yuuri kept looking at him as if he could read his mind if he stared hard enough, and Victor stared back. Eventually Yuuri shrugged, taking a swig from the champagne bottle. He started to lose his balance, but Victor grabbed his arm to keep him upright. 

“Thanks.” Yuuri started loosening his tie, holding onto Victor’s shoulder with the other hand. “Is it hot in here?”

“A little,” Victor admitted, but he felt like the flush creeping up his neck wasn’t just because of the temperature of the room. 

Yuri appeared at Victor’s elbow, scowling at Yuuri. “What the hell are _you_ doing here? Didn’t humiliate yourself enough on the ice?”

Yuuri looked at him with delight. “Yuri. The other Yuri.”

“Yes,” Yuri said slowly. “Is he drunk?” he asked Victor.

Yuuri took another swig from his bottle. “That’s too confusing, there being two Yuris. I think we should come up with a nickname for you."

“What? No!” 

“Yurio. I’ll call you Yurio.” Yuuri nodded like it was decided.

Victor giggled into his hand again.

“ _No!_ You’re going to retire, and I’ll be the only Yuri!” 

Yuuri clucked at him. “You’re such an angry little boy. Why are you so angry, Yurio?”

“I’m not a _little boy_ ,” Yuri snapped, his face starting to flush again.

Victor was about to try and de-escalate the situation when the DJ started playing hip-hop music which was oddly out of place for such a formal setting. 

“Ooooh, is there going to be dancing? I looooove dancing.” Yuuri started moving his hips.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Yuri groaned.“What even is this song? Is it from like thirty years ago?”

Yuri stopped dancing for a moment and gaped at him open-mouthed. It was cartoonishly funny. “You don’t know this?”

Yuri scowled. “Should I?”

Yuuri looked at Victor and shook his head sadly. “Kids these days.” 

Victor snorted, almost choking on his drink. Yuuri started dancing toward Yuri, moving his hips in syrupy way that made Victor dizzy. 

“Stop it,” Yuri growled. 

“What? You don’t like dancing?” Yuuri turned around and began to do something extremely inappropriate with his ass. Victor tried not to stare (rather unsuccessfully), gulping down more of his drink. 

“I am a way better dancer than you are, I guarantee it,” Yuri sneered. 

Yuuri stopped, his eyes glittering. “Oh reeeeeeeally?” 

“You really walked right into that one,” Victor said out of the corner of his mouth. 

“What?” Yuri looked confused. 

“Well then, _Yurio_ ,”Yuuri said, grinning. “I think you know what this means.”

“I told you not to call me that!” Yuri said through gritted teeth.

“ _Yurio_ ,” Yuuri began again, ignoring him, “I challenge you...to a dance-off.” 

“Victor, make him stop,” Yuri whined.

“I think you have to do it,” Victor said, looking down at him.

“What?? Why?” 

“Because I challenged you! C’mon!” Yuuri handed his bottle to Victor and started tugging Yuri out toward the center of the room, where there was more space.

“Victor, help!” Yuri called over his shoulder.

“Have fun, Yurio! I’ll take pictures!" 

“I won’t respond to that name!”

 

 

* * *

Yuuri break-danced Yurio into the dust—a stunning feat considering how much he was continuing to drink. Victor cheered them on, taking so many pictures that his phone was starting to run out of storage space. One thing was for certain: Yuuri could _move_. He was absolutely beautiful out there, even when he was being silly, doing headstand twirls or long leaps and pirouettes.

Once Yuri admitted defeat and stomped over to the drinks table for water, Yuuri grabbed Victor and started dancing with him instead. Victor handed his phone to Chris, laughing, moving with Yuuri to a sort of tango mixed with a dance beat. At first they danced around each other, moving to the music, but eventually Yuuri took him by the waist and started doing a real tango, leading him.

They twirled and leapt across the floor, both of them laughing, and Yuuri even dipped him, Victor doing a high split in the air simultaneously. As he moved and laughed and felt the heat of Yuuri’s skin through his clothes, Victor started to realize that he didn’t care one whit that this technically was not appropriate behavior for the Grand Prix gold medalist. He didn’t care that there were sponsors in the room, that people were taking pictures of him. For the first time in a long time, he was having _fun_.

When the D.J. took a break, Victor went over to the drink table to grab them both some water, and Chris gave him back his phone. 

“I want in on this action,” he said mischievously.

“Oh?” Victor said, gulping down some water. 

“I happen to know that there’s a pole dancing convention going on in the other ballroom, and a friend of mine is there. I’m going to go see if I can make something happen.” 

“ _Friend_?” Victor raised an eyebrow at him. 

Chris shrugged, laughing a little bit. Chris and his partner had an open relationship, and Chris had “friends” all over the world. It wasn’t exactly a secret. “Yuuri seems to be good at dancing, but I wonder if he could win at a pole dance-off?”

 

 

* * *

Fifteen short minutes later, a dancing pole had somehow materialized in the middle of the banquet floor, and Yuuri had agreed to another dance off. 

Yuuri, already divested of his pants, was clinging to Victor, who was trying not to get hard on the spot. Considering that he had an exceptionally hot half-clad drunken man essentially humping his leg, that was quite a feat.

“Victorrrrrr. My family runs a hot springs in Hasetsu. During the off season you should come and visit.” 

“Hmm.” Victor felt his face flush and wondered if he could possibly extricate himself without making Yuuri feel rejected.

“Hey, I got an idea! If I win the dance off, come to Hasetsu and be my coach? You’ll do it, won’t you, Victor? Be my coach!” Yuuri launched himself into Victor’s arms.

 _Oh,_ _shit_ _,_ Victor thought. _I am in so much trouble._

Victor locked eyes with Chris, who was grinning.

“Can you start the dance-off?” Victor pleaded. Yuuri was going to start making out with him if this kept going, and Victor wasn’t sure he would be able to stop him. 

Chris winked at him, peeling Yuuri off Victor. “It’s time, Yuuri, let’s go." 

Before could be pulled away completely, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s necktie, pulling him close until he could feel his warm breath on his face. “Watch me, Victor. Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, only me.”

“I will,” Victor whispered. “I couldn’t look away from you if I tried.”

Yuuri grinned toothily, and Victor’s heart did a little flip-flop in his chest. 

Yuuri and Chris both went over to the pole near the center of the room, and Chris shucked his pants to gasps around the room. He winked at a sandy-haired man who was obviously checking him out, and the man flushed deeply, mouth gaping. 

The D.J. had returned, and a sultry beat started over the loudspeakers. Yuuri kept eye contact with Victor as he started dancing seductively, his abdominal muscles rippling. He reached up to grab the pole, twirling once around it, his thigh muscles flexing impressively. Victor felt his face heating as he watched, but he didn’t even think of looking away. Yuuri twirled once more around the pole, his shirt fluttering in the breeze, and then he did an upside down split, grinning at Chris.

“You’re even good at pole dancing?” Chris looked slightly peeved, but impressed.

Yuuri shrugged. “I have sooooo many hidden talents, you have no idea,” he said, hiccuping. He cartwheeled down to the floor, glancing over at Victor to see if he was still watching. 

Victor wolf whistled despite himself, and Yuuri started pulling off his shirt slowly in a sort of strip tease, his hips rolling.

Yuuri turned, biting his lip and looking over his shoulder, throwing his shirt away and gyrating again. Victor swallowed, his mouth dry, watching Yuuri’s ass move to the beat of the music.

Yuuri Katsuki was going to be the _death_ of him. 

Not to be outdone, Chris (now also without his shirt) started grinding on the pole, throwing his head back. 

“This is obscene,” Yuri said, appearing at his elbow. “Why am I still here?”

“You can go if you want,” Victor said, unable to take his eyes off Yuuri, who was now starting to grind against the pole himself. Above him, Chris was twirling around upside down, doing intricate moves with his legs.

“I can’t leave alone!” 

“Yakov can take you,” Victor said, taking out his phone and starting to take pictures. Yuuri had now joined Chris on the pole, their nearly-naked bodies twisting together. Victor felt a deep, visceral heat in his stomach, along with something almost like jealousy.

“Fine, sit here drooling over him. I’m leaving,” Yuri said.

“Text me when you get back to your room,” Victor called after him.

Yuuri glanced over at him again, a dark heat in his eyes, as he threw his sweat-soaked hair back. He grabbed a champagne bottle from the floor, and as Chris was doing a split under him, he balanced one foot on Chris’s leg and started spraying champagne everywhere.

“Yuuri Katsuki, _who are you_?” Victor muttered, taking picture after picture.

 

* * *

Eventually, the D.J. finished for the evening, and most of the guests started to filter out. Chris and Yuuri came down from the pole reluctantly, laughing, and Yuuri stumbled over to Victor again.

“Well?” he said, smiling up at Victor.

“I think it was a draw,” Victor teased.

Yuuri pouted his lips exaggeratedly, leaning into Victor’s shoulder. “Really? I thought you’d like it. I did it just for you,” he said, low enough that Victor was the only one who could hear. 

“I loved it, дорогой милый,” Victor murmured into his ear, making Yuuri giggle.

“Okay lovebirds, get a room,” Chris teased, walking over. 

Victor glared at him. “Where is his coach?” 

“Must’ve left,” Chris said, picking up his discarded shirt. 

“Great.” Yuuri was leaning against Victor’s shoulder and starting to drool. “I guess I’ll take him back to his room then.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, but Victor just raised his own back. “What? You really think I’d take advantage of him when he’s like this?”

Chris snorted. “No, of course not. You just seem…”

“What?”

“Enamoured. In a good way.” Chris winked, throwing his clothes over his shoulder and sauntering off. “See you at the Worlds, darling.”

Victor sighed, looking down at Yuuri, who still didn’t have his pants on, but at least had his shirt back on now. He was nuzzling into Victor’s neck, which made a slight thrill run down Victor’s spine. 

“C’mon, Katsuki. Let’s get you to bed,” he said, leading Yuuri toward the door.

Yuuri looked around. “The party’s over? But I was just getting started.” 

Victor chuckled. “I’ll bet, party animal.” 

Yuuri giggled again, leaning against him heavily as they left the ballroom.

“Where’s your room?” Most of the competitors were staying in the hotel they were currently in, since it was the official hotel for the Grand Prix, but some skaters opted to stay elsewhere. 

“Here. Upstairs.”

“Okay. What number?” Victor led him over to the elevators, where a couple was waiting, and they were blatantly staring at Yuuri. Victor gave them his most daring smile, and they both looked away quickly. 

Yuuri shrugged. “Can’t remember.” 

Victor sighed. “Do you have your room key in your pants?”

“Mmmmmaybe?” Yuuri held them out, and Victor took them, digging into the pockets. There was a key card sleeve in one of them, with the room number written on it: 245.

“Bingo.”

“Cooool,” Yuuri slurred, leaning into him heavily.

He helped Yuuri into the elevator and to the second floor, and they stumbled over to Yuuri’s room. Victor propped him up against the wall as he opened the door with the key. 

“Victor.”

“Yes?” 

“I’m...I’m gonna…” 

Victor looked at Yuuri, who suddenly looked rather green. 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Victor muttered, steering him to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

As soon as he was near the toilet, Yuuri pushed the seat up and immediately threw up a few times. Victor rubbed his back, smoothing his hair out of his face and speaking soothing words. He wondered briefly how he had gotten into this situation, but mostly, he wondered why he didn’t mind in the slightest. 

Finally Yuuri seemed to be done, and he leaned back against Victor’s chest as Victor flushed the toilet. 

“Better?” Victor asked, smoothing Yuuri’s sticky hair away from his forehead.

“A little,” Yuuri said. “Feel disgusting.” 

“Drinking approximately three bottles of champagne will do that to you.” 

Yuuri groaned, leaning his head back against Victor’s shoulder. “‘M never drinking again.” 

“I’ve heard that one before,” Victor said, chuckling.

“Sorry that you had to…” Yuuri waved his hand toward the toilet. 

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” For some strange reason, he meant it. “Want to get up and brush your teeth? Shower maybe?”

“Standing up sounds...not fun,” Yuuri mumbled. 

“You can stay sitting for a moment, I’ll get your toothbrush.” 

Yuuri brushed his teeth, still looking miserable, and Victor started the shower, rolling up his sleeves.

“You’ll feel a lot better if you rinse off,” he insisted, helping Yuuri stand. 

“You’re just trying to get me out of my clothes,” Yuuri grinned up at him, letting Victor take his shirt off.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’ve seen most of it already, as has most of the elite skating world,” Victor said, taking Yuuri’s tie off and setting it on the counter as well. “I’ll let you leave your underwear on if it makes you feel better.” 

Yuuri shrugged, pulling off his underwear in one go and stepping into the shower, swaying slightly. Victor grabbed his arm, helping hold him up under the spray.

Yuuri turned into the water, and Victor flushed, because despite his bravado he hadn’t actually been prepared to see Yuuri totally naked. Yuuri’s ass was even more glorious when it wasn’t covered in fabric, as were...other things.

Victor tried his best to keep his eyes up at Yuuri’s face, no matter how much he wanted to look down again.

After Yuuri had rinsed off, Victor turned off the faucet and brought him a towel, drying him off and wrapping him up.

He helped Yuuri to the bed, and Yuuri collapsed onto the mattress, pulling Victor down on top of him. 

“Mmm.” He nuzzled Victor’s neck again, which made Victor’s skin buzz with excitement. “I’m naked, and Victor Nikiforov is on my bed. What a great dream this is.” 

“Yuuri,” Victor sighed. “Let me go.” 

Yuuri grabbed him by the necktie again, pulling him closer. “I have an idea.”

Victor felt his heart pounding, looking into those dark brown eyes, glinting in the low light. 

He gulped. “What?” 

“I’m thinking,” Yuuri pulled him down a little further, until Victor could feel Yuuri’s breath on his face. “We should have sex.” 

Victor gaped. “ _No_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s lips turned downward in his cartoonish exaggerated pout. “Don’t you want me? You don’t even want me in a dream. This sucks.”

Victor shook his head. “No, Yuuri. I want you. I really, _really_ do. But I can’t, not when you’re like this. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Yuuri pouted for another second, and Victor was about to pull back and get off the bed, but before he could, Yuuri jerked him downward by the tie until their lips met.

“Mmph,” Victor protested, startled, trying to pull back. Yuuri didn’t let up, pressing into the kiss, licking at Victor’s mouth, and he let himself—just a little—kiss Yuuri like he’d been wanting to all night. 

Yuuri pulled back, their lips making a little smacking noise as they parted. “How about now?” he whispered against Victor’s lips.

“дерьмо,”Victor swore under his breath. 

“I don’t speak…whatever that was.” Yuuri giggled. “C’mere, kiss me again.”

Yuuri wrapped his hand in Victor’s tie, his eyes dark. Victor had to close his eyes and take a deep breath in order to stop himself from lowering his lips to Yuuri’s again.

“I can’t,” Victor whispered, more to himself than to Yuuri, putting his hand over Yuuri’s and making him relax his grip on the tie. “I wish we could, but we can’t.” 

He pulled back completely and made to get off the bed, but Yuuri’s hand flew to his sleeve, tugging him down again. “Okay, okay. Please, just. Stay with me for a little? I promise I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Victor was about to refuse, but when he met Yuuri’s eyes, he couldn’t say no. 

He sighed, giving in. “Just until you fall asleep. But no more trying to kiss me or anything else, alright?” 

Yuuri nodded enthusiastically and Victor lay down next to him. Yuuri curled into him, nuzzling into Victor’s neck, and Victor’s stomach felt like it was going to drop out. Victor closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy cuddling with Yuuri, even for a short time. 

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbled into his neck.

“Hmm?” 

“I wasn’t kidding before. You were—” Yuuri hiccuped, interrupting himself. “You were my hero growing up. You’re the reason I wanted to skate. ”

“Really?” Victor smiled. 

“Mmm. I have posters of you allllll over my room. I loved you ever since the first time I saw you skate on TV.”

Victor’s smile widened until he was beaming. People told him things like that all the time, but it was different to hear it from Yuuri. 

“And then yesterday you didn’t even know who I was, even though we were skating in the same competition.” 

Victor’s heart sunk a little. “I’m sorry. I know it now,” he murmured. 

“Yeah. Yeah s’good.” Yuuri’s voice was getting sleepier. His hand was clenched in Victor’s shirt.

Victor sighed, turning his head slightly until his nose settled in Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri mumbled something in Japanese, moving his hips closer and tangling their legs together.

Victor ran his fingers up and down Yuuri’s spine as Yuuri’s breath started to even out. Victor felt warmth blooming deep down in his belly. In one evening, Victor had felt more happiness than the past few years preceding it combined. It was insane, it was impossible, it was ridiculous...but he was pretty sure he was falling for Yuuri Katsuki. 

After about half an hour, Yuuri was definitely asleep and Victor was starting to drift off. He was tempted to stay the night, but he didn’t want Yuuri to think upon waking that Victor had taken advantage of him. 

Nose buried in Yuuri's hair, he allowed himself one last long inhale before pulling out of Yuuri’s arms and getting up. Yuuri frowned in his sleep, curling up in the spot Victor had vacated.

Victor was about to leave when he realized he didn’t even have Yuuri’s phone number, and he hadn't left his own.

He went over to the hotel desk by the window, which was bathed in moonlight, and took out a notepad. He wrote down his phone number and, in a flight of fancy, signed it only with a heart. 

Victor walked quietly back over to the bed and put the pad on the table next to Yuuri, lingering once more at Yuuri’s side. He didn’t want to leave, a feeling that was completely foreign to him; he’d had a few lovers, sure, but he had never felt this attached to any of them. He had definitely never felt like staying longer with someone he hadn’t even had sex with.

Victor’s fingertips itched to touch him, just one last time, so he risked waking Yuuri by running his fingers once more through his dark mop of hair.

“пока мы не увидим друг друга,” he whispered. He pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s temple, then forced himself to turn from the bed and leave the room.

 

 

* * *

A day went by and Yuuri didn’t call or text. Victor told himself that Yuuri was just busy traveling and dealing with his hangover.

A second day went by. Victor tried not to think about Yuuri, and instead busied himself with preparing for Russian Nationals, which were only a couple of weeks away. 

Another day went by, and Victor started to feel nervous.

By the time a week had passed, he began to entertain the possibility that Yuuri wasn't going to contact him. Victor spent hours at home watching old clips of Yuuri skating, Makkachin’s head on his lap. Makkachin tried to cheer him up by licking his face, but his stomach felt like it was full of lead. His phone remained damningly silent. 

Another week of silence went by. Yakov started yelling at him for being unfocused in practice, and Victor didn’t argue. Yuri threw barbs at him about being heartsick. Georgi and Mila looked at him with pity. He didn’t care. 

Victor easily placed first at Nationals, qualifying for the World Championships yet again. The second he got off the podium, he checked his phone to see if Yuuri had texted or called to congratulate him. Nothing. 

He watched the Japanese figure skating nationals from home. When Yuuri skated out during his warmup, Victor felt his breath catch in his throat; he looked even more beautiful than Victor had remembered. He clutched Makkachin to his chest as he watched Yuuri’s programs, hoping that he would podium and that they would be able to see each other at Worlds. Every time Yuuri did a beautiful spin his heart soared, and every time he flubbed a jump his heart sank. 

The results came in, and Yuuri didn’t even crack the top ten, despite being Japan’s best skater the year before. The cameras focused on their national hero, and Yuuri’s eyes were full of tears before he turned and walked away. Victor lowered his head into Makkachin’s fur, weeping quietly, and Makkachin whined. 

A month after the Final, Victor had to admit it to himself: Yuuri wasn’t going to contact him. 

Victor had never felt heartbreak like this before in his entire life. Nothing made him feel better—not Makkachin, not skating, not even eating his favorite foods (which he usually didn’t let himself have during the season). Some mornings he had a hard time getting out of bed, his whole body aching in a way that had nothing to do with skating. 

He made himself go to practice, since he was competing for his fifth World Championship title, but he grew tired of practicing his already polished routines. He started creating a new routine, imagining the tango he had danced with Yuuri, how he’d moved to the music when he was spinning on the pole. He tried to translate how thoroughly Yuuri had seduced him with his movements, how Yuuri’s body felt against his own. He danced over the ice, remembering the feeling of Yuuri’s eyes on him, his body wrapped around Victor’s, his nose nuzzling Victor’s neck, the sound of his voice as he whispered in Victor’s ear. 

He couldn’t sleep. He spent hours upon hours in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to Makkachin’s deep breathing, thinking about Yuuri and what he was doing.

In an attempt to wear himself out so so that he might stop fixating on Yuuri during the night, he spent more and more time on the ice. One day, after landing twenty quad flips in a row, Yakov told him he needed to stop, to rest. He almost bit Yakov’s head off. After that, Yakov left him alone, though he continued to shoot him worried looks. Victor ignored him.

 

 

* * *

The World Championships were a blur. Victor won again, but it felt even more hollow than the Grand Prix Final. During the post-championship interviews, a reporter asked him what he was going to do next, and he couldn’t think of a good response. He didn’t want to compete anymore, not like this. 

When Victor finally got home, he immediately collapsed in bed, cuddling with Makkachin. He fell asleep listening to the Eros routine music, which was a mistake, because it made him dream of Yuuri’s lips.

The next morning, Victor shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed his phone, which he had left plugged in near the toaster. He started the coffee maker before he went over to the couch. Makkachin plopped onto his lap and Victor unlocked his phone to see what he’d missed. 

He had dozens of text messages and calls, which wasn’t abnormal after a win. Victor sighed, starting to sort through it all, until he realized that most of them weren’t actually about Worlds; many of them had simply sent him the same video from youtube.

Curious, Victor clicked on the video, and his pulse immediately picked up.

It was Yuuri—slightly out of shape, but Yuuri all the same—in practice clothes. He was standing in the center of a rink in the same pose Victor used at the beginning of his free skate routine. There was no music playing, but Yuuri started to skate.

 _God, he is so beautiful_ , Victor thought, watching Yuuri glide over the ice. He had watched Yuuri skate a lot over the intervening months via the internet, but it never failed to make his heart feel like it was in his throat. 

After a few moves, he started to realize it: Yuuri was performing his free skate routine. Victor’s heart started hammering in his chest as he watched, and he felt like he was falling in love with Yuuri all over again. The way he moved over the ice was unlike anything he had ever seen; it was like the music was already inside of him and he was creating it through his movements. Yuuri finished the final pose and Victor exhaled, feeling dizzy. Yuuri had skated his entire World Championship winning routine perfectly, even his signature move, the quad flip.

_Is this it? Is this his way of saying, after three months, that he does actually want to see me? Why didn’t he just call?_

It was a romantic gesture, to be sure. Skating Victor’s routine and posting it on youtube, letting it go viral...it was practically a love declaration to the entire world. Maybe Yuuri had been too shy to call Victor himself, and he had wanted to leave the ball in Victor’s court. 

Victor watched it again, and by the time he had watched it a third time, he had made up his mind. He got up, Makkachin barking as he jumped off his lap. He had a lot to do.

He was going to Japan.

 

 

* * *

_Barcelona, nine months later_

 

“You really don’t remember _anything_?” Victor demanded for the third time, his head reeling.

Yuuri groaned, opening the door to their hotel room and walking inside. “Vitya.” 

Victor closed the door behind them, putting down his shopping bags. “Don’t think you can ‘Vitya’ your way out of this.” 

Yuuri dropped his bags with rather more force than was strictly necessary and turned to look at him, crossing his arms. “If you must know, I thought it was all a dream.”

“A dream.” Victor mirrored his stance, crossing his own arms.

“You have to understand, I had basically been in love with you from the age of ten. That wouldn’t have been the first time…” he trailed off, his face flushing adorably.

“You had dreams about me?” Victor supplied, grinning a little in spite of himself.

Yuuri nodded, averting his eyes. 

“Still. You thought our first kiss was a _dream_?” 

“We—we actually…you kissed me?” Yuuri stammered, his cheeks flushing even more deeply, as if it was embarrassing that he had kissed his now-fiancé a year ago.  

“Well, technically, _you_ kissed _me_. You also tried to get me to have sex with you, even though I kept telling you I wouldn’t do anything when you were drunk.” 

Yuuri’s eyes got even more round. “We didn’t…”

“Of course not. Give me a little credit here.” Victor leaned against the wall.

Yuuri sighed, uncrossing his arms, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “I know, you wouldn't do that.”

He took a step toward Victor. “Now that I’ve seen the pictures, and what you’re telling me, I remember bits and pieces...but god, wasn’t I embarrassing? I was practically throwing myself at you, stripping naked in a formal event…” 

Victor smiled, remembering. “You also humped my leg and begged me to come to Hasetsu and be your coach.” 

“ _What_?” Yuuri clutched at his own chest in what would seem like a mockingly dramatic way if Victor didn’t know him so well.

Victor chuckled. “And when I brought you back to your hotel room, you threw up a few times. I held your hair back and helped you clean up after.”

“WHAT?” Yuuri buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe you took care of me. You didn’t even know me.”

Victor swallowed, struggling to put how he’d felt for those three months into words. 

“I basically fell in love with you that night,” he said quietly. “Once I helped you get into bed, I held you as you fell asleep...and I was happier than I had been in years. When you didn’t call, it broke my heart.” He tilted his chin upward slightly.

Yuuri groaned. “The phone number on the nightstand. That was yours.”

Victor raised his eyebrows. “Who else would have left it?” 

“Celestino came and got me up in the morning, packed up my stuff, and we left. I…I saw it, but I couldn’t figure out whose it was, so I just left it there.”

Victor swallowed, remembering the pain he went through for those three months, waiting for Yuuri to call, when it turned out he hadn’t even taken the number to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. “I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am.” He stepped in front of Victor, touching him tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure whether Victor wanted to be comforted or not.

Victor sighed, opening his arms, and Yuuri stepped into them, hugging him close. Victor pressed his nose into Yuuri’s hair, just as he had done all those months ago. 

“It’s not as if you forgot on purpose,” Victor murmured. “I'm not mad, you understand that right? It’s just…my whole worldview has shifted in the past hour, and I'm going to have to come to terms with it, that's all.”

Yuuri made a little noise of dissatisfaction, but he pressed himself harder against Victor. Sometimes Yuuri wasn't good at putting how he felt into words, but he was good with physically expressing comfort. 

Eventually, Yuuri sighed. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.”

Yuuri moved back enough that he could meet Victor’s gaze. “What was it about me? I mean…you're _you_ , and I'm just…me.”

Victor shook his head in disbelief. “I wish you could see yourself sometimes. The way I see you.”

“I'm being serious. What made you…erm.”

“What made me fall in love with you that night?” 

Yuuri blushed, nodding. Victor framed Yuuri’s face with both his hands, gazing into Yuuri’s eyes, deep like winter pools, but full of light at the same time. “You made me feel pure joy for the first time in god knows how long. For most of my life, I’d pushed any chance at love away in order to keep winning. But skating, and winning, no longer gave me joy. I felt lost, and I had been thinking about retiring for some time, but I didn’t know what else to do. ” 

Yuuri swallowed, still looking uncertain. 

“But then you danced into my life, quite literally. You have to tell me someday how you learned to pole dance like that, by the way.” 

Yuuri blushed even more deeply, and Victor chuckled, brushing his thumb over Yuuri’s lips. “And when you kissed me...I guess it’s ironic that you thought that night was a dream, because I felt like I had been sleeping my whole life, and you finally woke me up.”

“Victor.” Yuuri’s eyes were glistening, and Victor leaned down to kiss the tears away. Yuuri tilted his head up, and Victor pulled him closer, kissing him on the mouth, slowly and deeply.

“So...our first kiss...was it good?” Yuuri whispered against his lips.

“The best first kiss I've ever had,” Victor said honestly.

“I wish I could remember.”

Victor smirked. “You can kiss me as many times as you want from now on.” 

“I know,” Yuuri sighed. “I just feel cheated out of remembering it. And cheated of all the time I could have had with you if I had known.” 

Victor chuckled. “We have the rest of our lives, мой любовь.” 

Yuuri reached up to push Victor’s bangs out of his eyes. “I've heard you say those words before. What do they mean?” 

“It means ‘my love.’” 

Yuuri smiled. “I like that.”

“Now come on, let’s celebrate our engagement properly.” Victor pulled Yuuri’s scarf over his head and started unbuttoning his jacket, kissing under Yuuri’s jaw.

“Mmmm,” Yuuri hummed, tilting his head back to allow Victor better access. “What exactly did you have in mind?” 

“I have a few ideas,” Victor said, walking him back toward the bed. They both shucked off their coats and shoes as they walked.

“Nothing too vigorous, I have to compete tomorrow.”

He sat down on the bed, and Victor immediately pushed him down, lying between his thighs and kissing down his throat. 

“Not until the evening,” Victor said, sucking on Yuuri’s pulse. Yuuri arched upward, hands sliding down to Victor’s ass. “Besides, your coach says it’s alright.”

“My coach is a little bit biased,” Yuuri laughed.

“A bit,” Victor agreed, smiling.

 

 

* * *

_Epilogue: 30 minutes later_

 

Victor was about to fall asleep when he sat straight up in bed. “Wait a minute, so what did you think I was doing when I showed up at your house to be your coach? You thought I just...came up with it on my own?”

Yuuri, who was half asleep, groaned and turned over. “Victor, I need to sleep.”

“No really, and I was totally naked...you must have thought I was such a _creep_! And then I kept flirting with you, trying to get you to sleep in the same bed as me...” 

“I thought you were just...sort of...like that." 

Victor groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this, I can’t believe you didn’t kick me out of your house.”

“Go to sleep _._ We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

“And I even rubbed your lips at that Eros practice, oh god _.”_  

Yuuri snorted. “Yes, you did.” 

“You really thought I was like that with everyone?”

“ _Victor._ ” 

Victor sighed, curling up against Yuuri, his front to Yuuri’s back. “Fine. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Vitya. I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this fic came to me one day when I was listening to “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur.
> 
>  
> 
> дорогой милый = darling  
> дерьмо = shit  
> пока мы не увидим друг друга = until we see each other again  
> мой любовь= my love  
> вы так невероятно красиво = you’re so unbelievably beautiful


End file.
